


A Lover's Love

by RJRascal



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Angst, F/F, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Moving On, Original Character Death(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-17
Updated: 2015-11-17
Packaged: 2018-04-26 19:38:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5017792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RJRascal/pseuds/RJRascal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Under the command of her King, Alistair Theirin, Warden Neria Surana is sent to join the Inquisition as representative of the Crown. In Denerim, it's always warm, and she gets all the pleasurable company she wants. In Haven? It's below freezing, and the food is always stale. However, in Haven, there's a gorgeous red-head who Warden Surana quickly develops a crush on. Advisor AU. Not so much angst in the first chapter, but there will be plenty in future :D<br/>Update January 19 2017. I am very slowly working on this project. It's not been forgotten about! I am currently at 60,000+ words and counting :D</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_Why is it so fucking cold?_

Riding through the white little village of Haven, the Elven Mage, Neria Surana, pulled her fur-lined cloak tighter around her small, hunched over body. Her jaw shivered as she gripped the reins once again, holding on with a stone-like hand as her horse began his uphill trek.

Snowflakes littered around her, covering the brown and crusty ground with a thick sheet of snow, and Neria's nose wrinkled in disgust. Ever since she was a young girl, she always disliked snow.

Neria and her two companions, Ser Willum and Ser Jory, had been riding effortlessly across Fereldan for two weeks. They occasionally stopped at an Inn or Tavern for the night to eat their fill and groom their mounts, only to head straight back on the road at first dawn.

Everything was going fine.

_Until_ they passed Redcliffe Village.

The more south they rode, the more cold it had become, leaving Neria a shivering, cursing mess. The sudden climate change had slowed them down, turning their one week journey into a two week journey.

' _What I wouldn't give to be curled up in my bed right now,'_ the young Mage thought with longing. _'My head on a fluffy pillow, a roaring fire keeping the room warm, and an exhausted whore sleeping in my bed.'_

However, instead of a toasty room and welcome company, Neria was fighting her way through a shit-storm, her teeth chattering as the harsh wind blew against her, sent by her King on a foolish journey to represent him in the newly founded Inquisition.

No matter what life Alistair had given her throughout the years, Neria really – _really_ \- hated him sometimes.

"Ah! Lady Surana!" called a voice through the falling white specs.

Neria squinted her eyes through the storm, knowing that it wouldn't improve her vision. She felt someone take the horse by his head-gear, and allowed herself to be guided out of the horrible weather.

"My thanks!" she called, her hands coming to her hood. She tucked the material around her face and bent over until she felt the hairs of wet, horse mane tickle at her cheek. She followed the steady rhythm of the horse's movement, letting herself sway steadily in her saddle.

A few moments later, she heard heavy doors open and was relieved to realise that she no longer felt the onslaught of snowflakes battering against her cloak. Neria leaned up on her horse, and was greeted by the dim light of many candles.

Neria ran her hands through her short, brown hair, pushing the hood off as she looked around.

She was in a narrow hall, the stone on the ground covered in red carpets. Candles scattered across the ground, and many alcoves in the walls around her. There were three people occupying the hallway, each looking over to her as she slid down from her saddle, landing on the cold ground with a 'thud'.

There was a pleasant warmth throughout the room, and Neria appreciated it greatly. Peeling off her gloves, the mage shrugged the wet heavy cloak on her shoulders uncomfortably.

"Neria Surana," a voice called. She turned towards the end of the hall, a tall, lean woman striding forward. She had jet black hair, and wore a sword strapped to her hip. A deep, wide scar spreak down her right cheek, stopping at her chin.

Neria smiled to her in greeting, and clasped her hand in the woman's. "Seeker Pentaghast," she spoke. "I apologise for our delay."

"We were expecting you nearly a week ago," the Seeker replied, looking past her to the guards. "Our Commander was going to send a search party out for you on the morrow."

"I'm sorry to disappoint," Neria joked, releasing the clasp that kept her cloak secure. She felt the wet weight leave her shoulders and groaned, feeling a kink in her right side. Reaching up, she dug at the annoyance with her left hand. "We weren't expecting the storm."

"You should have, especially this far South." Neria winced, hearing the chastising in her voice. She didn't want to get off on the wrong foot with anyone here. Not within the first few day, at least. "Come. There is a fire going in the next room."

The Seeker guided her and the guards into a small, compact room, the warmth hitting them immediately when they entered. The mage knelt in front of the fire, extending her hands to the orange embers. The flames seemed to push themselves through her fingertips, leaving Neria in shuddering delight. After days of cold, even the smallest of warmth was appreciated.

"I expect you're hungry. I'll have the cooks bring you a bowl of broth," Cassandra said, coming to Neria. "How goes the King?"

"All is well," Neria assured. "Though the mage uprising is causing him one too many sleepless nights. He has given some in the Rebellion refuge in Redcliffe, but if you ask me that won't last long."

"The King is a good man," the Seeker replied. "Too good, at times."

"'Doesn't know what to do, so his generosity seeps in' is more like it," Neria chuckled, her green eyes meeting the Seeker's. "He is a good man, but if it weren't for those who support him, I doubt he'd be able to keep the country going."

"That could be said with many rulers," Cassandra said, her lips pursed. "What did he think of my proposal?"

"He laughed, at first," Neria replied lightly. "He knows that I don't mix well with all that political shit, and that's what I had thought you wanted me for. He found it humorous. But after a while of thought, he said it was best to send me as his representative."

"Considering he is giving up one of his most trusted advisors, I am glad he thinks our cause is worthy enough to send you." Cassandra muttered. "Come with me. You should meet with the others."

Disappointed that she was being led away from the source of warmth, Neria allowed herself to be walked from the room, Ser Willum and Ser Jory staying behind.

Neria and Cassandra entered a quiet room, which was considerably colder than the other. There was only one occupant inside, who was looking down at the large Table which stood in the middle of the room, sheets of paper covering the wood.

"Commander, this is Neria Surana, one of the King's Advisors and representative of the Crown," Cassandra announced, holding the door open for the younger woman. The man in the room look up from his papers and glanced over to the two newcomers. His gaze quickly settled on the mage, his eyes widening and his mouth agape. " _Neria_?" he said, straightening.

Neria frowned as she eyed the curly headed man, his face seeming almost familiar. She ignored the massive, fur lined coat and watched as he rested his hand on the pommel of his sword. After a few moments, it came to her. "Cullen? Cullen Rutherford?" she broke into a smile.

Cassandra looked between the two, startled. "You two know each other?"

"Yes, I was at her Harrowing," Cullen answered for both of them. "You've… _grown_ since then."

"That's one way to put it," Neria laughed.

She had been very young at the time of her Harrowing, only fourteen, making her the youngest Mage to ever pass the Harrowing in the Fereldan Tower. She remembered Cullen and his Brothers watching over her before she entered the Fade, his face slick with nervousness. They had been friends all of her time in the Circle, even though he had always referred to her as 'Mage'. At one point, she had even had a crush on the young Templar, though when pushed by her friend, she always denied it.

"This was who you met at the Conclave, Cassandra?" The Commander asked, switching his gaze from the mage to the warrior.

"Yes," the Seeker replied. "She proved to be fierce on the field, and was able to calm the soldiers, as well as Chancellor Roderik. I thought perhaps that she had skills that could be of use to us."

"And I'm still here, by the way," the young mage spoke. "And what of the other who was at the Conclave? The one who walked out of the Fade?"

There was a silence that hung over the three, and it was filled with questioning looks between Cassandra and Cullen. "She is here, in Haven," the Seeker replied cautiously. "Although she is yet to awaken. We have our healers tending to her, but they insist that she will come to in her own time."

Neria nodded slowly, wondering what to do with this information. She had only meet the one who everyone was calling the 'Herald of Andraste' once, on the bridge with Cassandra and Chancellor Roderik. She was a young woman name Evelyn, around nineteen the Elf had guessed. Human, quiet, _**gorgeous**_.

Many were claiming that the Herald was the one had killed the Divine and caused the explosion, but honestly, Neria believed the opposite. She _knew_ killers. She saw them nearly every day in Denerim, even helped the King sentence a few if their murders fell into her expertise. All the traits and features that a murderer had… the young woman just didn't possess them.

"Well, hopefully she wakes up soon," she spoke. "Then we can ask her about what we saw at the Temple, with the Divine."

Before Cassandra or Cullen could reply, the door behind the mage swung open. "I apologise for being late," came a voice behind her. It sounded Orlesian, but was slightly off, like it had another accent mixed in. "I didn't know we were in session."

"We weren't," the Seeker announced. "We were simply discussing the state of the 'Herald'."

Silence once again filled the room, and she knew that those inside were waiting for her to greet herself. Placing a hand on the table, she turned to greet the intruder.

Then she stopped.

In front of her stood a tall, thin, hooded woman. It was clear that she had red-hair, as proved by the tuffs spilling out from the sides of the cowl. Her deep, sea blue eyes watched Neria like a hawk, taking in her appearance and waiting for the mage to introduce herself.

Apparently, the Elf had forgotten, too enchanted by the woman in front of her.

' _Makar's Balls, she's… she's… Andraste's Tits…'_

The Orlesian woman stared at Neria for a good few moments, waiting for her to speak. She glanced over to Cassandra, who frowned at the young Elf. The woman shook her head slowly, then spoke. "'We'? Who is our guest?"

"This is Neria Surana," Cassandra introduced somewhat awkwardly. "She is who I told you of, one of the King's Advisors." She turned to Neria and gestured to the Orlesian. "And this is Sister Leliana. She is our Spymaster."

" _Tactfully_ put, Cassandra," the red-head smirked over to the woman.

Neria swallowed the lump in her throat, and chastised herself at the redness of her cheeks. "I- uhh," she coughed. Leliana watched her carefully again, narrowing her eyes at the young mage. Clearing her throat, Neria straightened and rested her arms clumsily at her sides. "Hi," she greeted, a small – _awkward_ – laugh soon following it.

If those in the room hadn't thought her mentally challenged, they definitely must have after that introduction.

The so called meeting lasted only another twenty minutes, and Neria wasn't able to listen to a word anyone was saying. Her gaze kept wondering over to the Orlesian beauty, studying her pale, silk-like skin. She observed the thinness, and pink texture of her rosy lips, how her red hair would move in disruption when she looked up to say something. And most importantly, her eyes; how _blue_ they were, a colour so rich and deep Neria felt she could easily get lost in them, how they narrowed when those ocean eyes met with her own green ones, only for the mage to hastily look away in embarrassment as she felt her cheeks redden.

Eventually, tired of the glances, the Spymaster called her out. "Is there a problem?" she asked, her voice agitated.

Neria's eyes widened as once she realised it was _her_ the Orlesian was talking to, and she quickly jumped to attention. "No!" she exclaimed. "No, no! No problem here!" She grinned, which she was positive was lopsided and goofy. The red-head narrowed her eyes at her again, and looked back down at the Table.

And to make matters worse, she could have sworn she heard the Seeker _scoff._

_**A.N: I'm just gonna leave this here...** _

_**I didn't know where to end it, so Cassandra scoffing will have to do :D I saw an 'Advisor AU' somewhere and this kinda came to mind. The original AU idea is that the Warden and Leliana never meet in Origins, but in Inquisition instead with the Warden as an Advisor.** _

_**However, I threw my own twist in, where there are two Wardens in Origins but they are separated after the Battle of Ostigar. One meets Leliana, they fall in love and that Warden becomes the Hero of Fereldan, but unfortunately dies defeating the Archdemon (because angst and heartbreak). The other becomes Alistair's arcane advisor after the Blight and is sent to join the Inquisition when it is founded again, meets Leliana and has an instant, insane crush on her. Ta da.** _

_**Hope you enjoyed the first chapter :D** _

_**~RJay** _


	2. Chapter 2

_Heavy footsteps passed the lazily erected tent, rousing a sleeping Leliana from her dreamless rest. She jolted awake with a gasp, her eyes tightly closed as she drove her nose deeper into the pillow lodged in her grip. Irritated, she listened for what had woken her up, and sighed when she realised who it was._

' _Alistair…' her hazy mind blamed. "Can't you be just be a_ _ **little**_ _bit quieter?"_

_Stuck in the middle of dream and reality, she listened out for the subtle little noises that surrounded her, and the little smells that invaded her nose. She could hear the tittering of a dying fire, the snores of the Mabari war hound, who was often outside her tent, and the delicious smell of… fruit?_

_Becoming more alert, the Orlesian woman realised the itchy irritation on the very tip of her nose. When she tried to scratch it, she found her arm immobile, too heavy to lift. Frowning, she squinted her eyes open slightly and lifted her head, her eyes widening at what she saw._

_The pillow that she was snuggling – well, it wasn't a_ _**pillow** _ _at all._

_Long, brown hair greeted her when she opened her eyes, as well as the pale, fleshy shoulder that she was resting her chin on. Small little dark spots littered the pale shoulder, and likely most of the 'pillow's' back, as well._

_Looking across the ground of the tent, Leliana felt a blush creep up to her cheeks when she found countless items of clothing – including some of her own – in a messy pile near the bedroll._

_Suddenly, she smiled a wide grin as memories of her night came flooding back to her, and she eyed her sleeping partner again, and tightened her loving hold on them._

_Everything quickly came back to the Bard;_

_Leliana's subtle invitation,_

_Leliana's_ _**obvious** _ _invitation,_

_Their quick trip back to Elissa's tent…_

_Smiling wider, Leliana moved closer to her Warden, diving her face into the mass of hair as she pressed her nude form against her sleeping partner's. She felt the woman's steady breathing against her arm, and her luscious warmth through the length of her torso. The night's activities had been nothing short of amazing, to the point where the Bard had questioned whether or not Elissa Cousland was in fact an innocent._

_She certainly didn't_ _**act** _ _like an innocent behind closed doors._

_The human noble let out a long breath in her sleep, and turned in Leliana's arms. Elissa's head came to rest comfortably on the Bard's arm, right up close to her shoulder. Leliana shivered in delight when she felt her lover's steady breath crawl down her neck, and she smiled further. Her arm had slung itself over Leliana's waist, hanging lazily near the middle of her back, and her full, soft breasts came to rest just under Leliana's. All the Bard had to do was lean forward, and she could press her lips to her lover's perfect face._

_And that's what she did._

_Leaning down, she pressed her lips against Elissa's forehead, the sweet smell of her fruity hair coming up the Bard's nose and invading her senses in the best possible way. She snaked her arms around the warriors frame again, bringing her even closer._

_It felt wonderful to be with someone again._

_To share a bed with someone, without having to worry about her disfigurements; the ugly scars that devoured her body._

_To love someone, and be loved in return, was something Leliana thought she would_ _**never** _ _be able to do again._

_To be able to laugh, and be herself around the woman she loved… it was truly a blessing._

_And the way Elissa was so_ _**cold** _ _in her arms…_

_Wait…_

_Cold?_

_Frowning, Leliana pulled away from the younger woman to look down upon her face._

_She shouldn't be_ _**cold** _ _. The roaring fire could be felt by everyone in the camp, even those farthest away. The blanket was secured tightly around Elissa's shoulder, so there was no reason for the young woman to be at the shivering temperature she was._

_Lifting her arm from the noble's waist, Leliana brought it up to her cheek, to find that it too was deathly cold. "'lissa?" she murmured. She shook the woman in her arms, trying to rouse her from her sleep._

_It was then she realised there was no breath coming from her lover's lips._

_No rise and fall of her chest._

_Panic flooded the bard as she swiftly broke free of her lover's loose grip. She leaned down and pressed her ear over Elissa's breast, and held her breath._

…

_No beat._

_There was no heartbeat._

" _No!" Leliana called as she jumped up from the bedroll. "Elissa!" she exclaimed, tears bouncing to her eyes._

_This_ _**couldn't** _ _be happening…_

" _No! Elissa, please!" she called again. The warrior's eyes remained closed, her sleeping face unchanged, and unmoving._

_**Dead.** _

_Leliana shook her head as she tried desperately to rouse her love, shaking her icy shoulders as she called out again and again._

" _No! Please, Elissa! Open your eyes!_ _ **Please**_ _!"_

" _No!"_

" _ **No!"**_

* * *

 "No!"

Opening her eyes with a violent jolt, Leliana sat up straight as an arrow in her bed. Her breathing was heavy as her eyes moved at lightning speed around the walls, down at the bed, and to the floor in a frantic manor.

Realising where she was, the Spymaster let out a long breath, her warm exhale mixing with the cold room, sending spurts of white from her chapped lips. She shivered, then saw that the blankets were pooled around her hip, and the thin night clothing she wore was doing nothing to shield her from the cold.

For what good it done, anyhow.

Sighing, she led back down on her bed with nothing but her thoughts, the sound of Josephine's steady breathing, and her own grief to keep her company.

She held back a sniffle as the remnants of her dream came back to her, and she looked over to her sleeping friend to make sure that she was, in fact, _sleeping_. Watching as her body rose and dropped in a steady manor, Leliana let out a shaky breath as her eyes filled with tears. She wrapped her arms around her knees, allowing herself this brief moment of vulnerability.

She sobbed silently into her arms as she wrapped them around herself to stop herself shaking, the face of her deceased lover appearing in her mind, with her perfect smile, and gorgeous long hair.

It _hurt_ to see her, to _think_ of her, but Leliana knew that there was nothing to get rid of the image.

Not that she truly wanted that.

She _never_ wanted to forget Elissa Cousland, her Great Love in times of chaos.

The more she thought about her once-lover, the more she felt the urge to cry endlessly into her blankets. More tears spilled over her cheeks, making it harder to keep her mourning silent.

' _If only she were_ _ **here**_ ,' Leliana thought, rubbing her eyes with her sleeve. ' _She'd know what to do. She'd comfort me over the loss of Justinia. She'd tell me that everything would be okay, and I'd believe her. Oh, Ma Cherie… I miss you, my love…'_

Leliana dared not close her eyes again, the thought of falling back to sleep and returning to that nightmare too painful to bear. Whipping the covers off of her, and stretched down for her boots. Her armour and cloak were slung over her chair, and she rubbed her eyes a final time before reaching over for them

* * *

 Her head hurt with a hard thumping, her nose was sore and red, and her heart ached.

But that didn't matter. None of it did.

Not in her office.

In her office, she could throw herself into her work to make the pain all go away. Or dull, at the very least. Working gave her a distraction, a means to escape from the pain lodged in her heart. It was one of the only things that had kept her sane throughout the years, Leliana believed.

It was in the middle of the night when Leliana found herself in the Chantry of Haven, pouring over missives and report from her agents all across Thedas, and opening countless letters from some dignitary or other. Not that it was _her_ job to deal with dignitaries, but it _was_ her job to see the goings on of the Inquisition.

Eavesdropping people's letters was practically in the job description.

Reading halfway through a letter, Leliana gave a small jump when she heard a gentle knocking on her door.

Immediately, Leliana the Bard shone through her face.

Eying the door steadily, Leliana reached into her loose armour. Her finger scrapped the leather grip of her dagger, making sure it was there. "Yes?" she called.

The door opened slowly, and Neria Surana's head peered around the corner, her green eyes shining dimly in the candle-light. "Hi there," she greeted, coming into the room, her hand carrying two mugs of steaming liquid. "I… uhh… don't suppose you have room for one more in here?" the Elven Mage asked, gesturing to the Spymaster one of the cups.

Frowning, Leliana eyed the woman closely for a few seconds, noticing the state of her clothing. ' _It's well into the morning, yet she looks as though she hasn't even slept…'_ Leliana observed before looking down to the cup offered to her.

"I suppose you could stay here a while," she replied, taking one of the cups. Tea, by the looks of it. "Thank you."

"I didn't know how you liked it," Neria replied with a small shrug. "I see the servant boy – Virin, his name? Yes – making drinks and such for everyone, but it's hard to tell what is for who, so…" she trailed off, taking a sip of her own tea.

"As long as it is hot," Leliana said, placing her mug on the desk near the stack of papers.

In truth, Leliana didn't really know what to think of this new addition to the Inquisition. When she first saw the Mage, she was unknown. _That_ had put her on her guard immediately. The Elf's stuttering had done nothing to improve the situation, either.

It was only when Cassandra had expressed that Neria was one of the King's close advisors did she let her guard down just a little bit. For a short while, her thoughts went out to the King, and the time they shared together during the Blight. Back then, he was a tall, goofy Grey Warden, whose cooking skills would have been enough to ward off the Blight, had they tried it. He was a young, scared man who would rather follow than lead.

' _Now look at him,'_ she had thought, a small swell of pride growing in her chest.

When Neria had begun stuttering and blushing like she had just been caught thieving out of the cookie jar, it reminded the Bard very much of the young King, and she knew why he had kept her as his advisor.

She found it endearing, in a funny sort of way. Some might have called it cute, and the Mage wore the word well.

Leliana had summarised the Mage quickly in that room, and knew that she would be an excellent addition to the small circle they had grown, and she would even be able to put up with her blatantly _obvious_ attraction to the Spymaster.

' _If only she would stop staring during meetings…'_

"What are you doing?" Neria asked after taking yet another sip of her tea to fill the silence.

Leliana looked up at the young woman sharply and frowned. "What does it look like?" she asked steadily. "I'm reading reports. Why?"

"Well, I know that, but…" Neria shook her head, and took another gulp of her tea. There was another silence between the two, which was filled with Neria blowing gently on her tea, and the quiet rustlings of paper. "So, where were you born?" Neria questioned again, looking up from her mug.

Sighing irritably, Leliana looked up from her report. "Why all the sudden questions?" she snapped. "Why do you have to bother me so?"

Neria's eyes widened for a moment or two, shocked and surprised, before they lowered to the ground half lidded, rejected and hurt.

Anger had boiled beneath Leliana's skin, which was now being quickly washed away.

Neria nodded slowly before standing, taking her mug along with her. "My apologies," she muttered weakly. "It's just that – I… I don't really… _know_ anyone here. I don't want to get off on the wrong foot with anyone, and I… I suppose I just wanted to start by getting to know _you_ better. As a person, I mean. Not _Sister Nightingale_." The Mage looked off to the side, seeming to chastise herself quietly. She shook her head, berating herself before turning. "I think I should just… go."

Sighing inwardly, Leliana watched as the woman turned towards the door. Guilt coursed through her then, as the scene in front of her reminded her greatly of herself when she had first arrived in the Lothering Chantry. How her Brothers and Sisters had cruelly rejected her beliefs, causing her to feel isolated and upset.

She had vowed to _never_ make someone feel the pain she had that day.

Leliana sighed again that night, and pressed the report in her hand down to the table. "Orlais," she called after Neria, just as her hand reached the handle.

The Mage looked over her shoulder to the red head, and frowned. "Pardon?"

Turning in her seat, Leliana looked over to her. "Orlais," she repeated. "It's where I was born." Neria turned now, her hand sliding from the handle. "But my mother was Fereldan, so I've always considered myself as such." Neria gave a stiff nod and a lift of her lip in a tiny smile. "And yourself?" Leliana asked.

Looking discouraged, Neria placed her hand back on the door handle. She bit her lower lip slightly, then muttered, "You don't have to. I can leave if you find me bothersome."

Leliana gave the young woman a stern look. "Nonsense," she said. "I am just not used to people asking questions out of nowhere. In many situations, answering them would be a foolish mistake. So, where were you born?"

Neria's eyes lightened a little, and her hand slid off the door for a final time. She quietly made her way back to her seat, and lowered herself onto the frame, sitting with her mug in her lap. "Fereldan," the Elf replied. "I – I _think_ , anyway. I was taken from my mother at a very young age. I only really remember being in the Circle."

Leliana frowned. "I thought it was only over a certain age that a child could be taken from their family?" She remembered her only time in one of the Circles of Magi. There will children there, of course, but all looked in their pre-teens, or at least over the age of eleven. There were no signs of a toddler, or a babe-in-arms.

Neria shook her head. "No. Magic can be seen in someone at any age. I was told that my abilities began to show when I was a babe. It was only a few days after that my mother found a Templar to take me off to the Fereldan Circle."

"I see," Leliana muttered. In truth, she wanted to say that if anyone could give up their child like that, they had no right to call themselves a parent. She had nearly offered her apologies, but she wasn't certain on whether they would be welcomed or not. Instead, she played Neria's game, and asked a question herself. "Was there anything about the Circle you liked?"

Neria scoffed and took another sip of her tea. "Have you ever _been_ to a Circe Tower? It's like living in a jail cell – only _cleaner."_ Neria chuckled when she saw Leliana's smirk, and continued. "I suppose it wasn't that bad, really. It was quiet, peaceful. And some of the Templars weren't all that horrible. It was just being _watched_ all the time, knowing that if we made one little mistake we'd be made Tranquil, or worse.

"Cullen was never that bad. We had a somewhat friendly relationship, but even he was always a bit… _off_ with me. Like we could never be _friends_ , only Mage and Templar."

"Not many Templars are willing to be friends with a Mage," Leliana retorted. "Our Commander never talks about his time in Fereldan."

"As a Templar, who would?" Neria shuddered. "I saw many in the Circle lose their minds to Lyrium addiction. It's not something _anyone_ would be proud of."

"I suppose not." Leliana watched the younger woman for a short while, before another question came to mind. "What did you think of him when you met him?" It was obvious that for the first few moments, the Mage was doing her best not to smirk. After a few seconds, Neria smiled bashfully as a red flush spread to her cheeks, much like they had done the first time Leliana met her. Leliana grew a teasing smile of her own, and chuckled. "Oh, _do_ share."

Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, she continued. "I may have had a… slight, _mild_ crush on him for a few weeks… stop _smiling_ like that," Neria giggled as she hid her face in her hands.

"I'm just figuring out your type," Leliana said innocently with a smirk. "I didn't think you'd be attracted to men such as Cullen."

"I'm _not_ , I'm a-" The Mage cut herself off, and looked up to the Spymaster cautiously. Her mouth was open, as though she was about to continue. Instead, she gave an awkward cough, and looked back down again. " _Anyway_ , my feelings went away long before I left the Circle." There was a long silence, before she spoke again. "Wow… that was ten years ago…"

This caught Leliana by surprise. " _Ten_ years ago?" she asked, and Neria nodded. "You must have been very young when they let you go."

"Fourteen," the Mage chuckled. "Not that they wanted to let me go. I was… in a _spot_ of trouble, let's say. My friend wanted to run away from the Tower with one of the Chantry Initiates. He asked me to help him find his phylactery, and destroy it. We found it, smashed it, and made our way back up to the Main Floors, but the First Enchanter was already there waiting for us, with a dozen Templars at his back.

"Before they could decide what to do with me, a Grey Warden conscripted me into the Order."

 _This_ surprised Leliana even further. "You're a _Warden_?"

Neria chuckled. "Congratulations, you're one of the very few people to ever know." She gave another awkward cough. "But yes. I was brought in just before the Blight. Anyhow, it was a man named Duncan who conscripted me and took me away from the Circle. He was looking for new recruits to fight against the Darkspawn, and the First Enchanter recommended me when he arrived. Before I knew it, we were on the road South. I don't know what would have happened to me if he hadn't come along when he did."

Leliana was silent for a short while after. Her thoughts went back to what she herself had been doing ten years ago, and her next question hung on the tip of her tongue, too nervous to ask it.

Or afraid.

Or _heartbroken_.

Fortunately, Neria continued before Leliana could open her mouth. "We arrived in Ostigar a week later, and he left again the next day. And I was stuck with the company of Alistair and two other recruits." Her smile lessened then, and it reminded Leliana _greatly_ of Elissa. When _she_ had spoken of her brothers-in-arms, and how they had died-

_Wait…_

_Before Ostigar?_

_That's when Elissa…_

Leliana's heart began to race as she began to piece what the Elf in front of her had said with what her lover had once told her.

Again, Neria began talking before Leliana could ask the question, which stayed jumbled and tough in her mouth. "A few weeks later, Duncan came back with another recruit. Female, this time, that the Makar… from Highever… really _pretty_ …"

As the younger woman continued to talk, Leliana found herself unable to hear most of what she was saying, too in amongst her own thoughts to listen. ' _She… she knew Elissa?'_ Leliana thought, feeling as though a knife had been forced straight through her chest.

"You knew the Hero of Fereldan?" Leliana muttered, cutting off whatever the Mage was saying.

Neria nodded, and took another swig of her tea. "Briefly, though we were quite… _close_ in the few days we knew each other. Her family had been killed, and she was very distraught. She talked to me about what she was going through, and I suppose I was just there for her. Then we- ugh-" Neria gave yet another awkward cough, and continued with her story.

Neria had given little coughs like that throughout the night, yet somehow this one had been different. It was more strangled. Forced.

Leliana narrowed her eyes, _knowing_ what that little cough meant. She had heard it often enough with shy young women and whores who were confronted on who they had bedded.

The Spymaster felt a stab of jealously run through her at the thought of her lover being with another woman, but she quickly pushed it down. This was beforeshe had even _met_ Elissa. This was immediately after her family was _murdered._ Of course she'd have been looking for comfort…

Leliana gave a stiff chuckle after a moment. ' _She wasn't as innocent as she made herself out to be… and with someone five years her junior, no less…'_

"Are you alright?" Neria asked, pausing whatever she had been saying.

Leliana looked up to the Mage, ready to say what she had thought amusing, then stopped.

What was she _doing_? Just about to tell this complete and utter _stranger_ about her thoughts and feelings? She barely even _knew_ the woman…

' _But she's so easy to talk to… the conversation just_ _ **flows…**_ _'_ the criticising voice in her mind said. ' _Just like_ _ **her**_ _…'_

There was silence for a moment before she shook her head. "Never mind it," she said, effectively brushing off the Elf. She looked back down to the desk, to her missives and reports that still needed doing, and she sighed.

' _What am I doing? I have work to do,'_ she thought. ' _I don't have time for this…'_

Looking back up to the Mage, Leliana steeled herself, giving the woman opposite her a neutral gaze. "My apologies, Lady Surana. I have things I must be doing."

The Spymaster watched as the glow in Neria's eyes left, and saw how her expression saddened. "Oh, no, no! That's quite alright!" the young woman said, lifting herself from her chair as she tried to make her voice light and cheerful. "I only meant to stay for a few minutes, anyhow." She gestured the door, and turned twice to it, motioning to it all the while. "I'll just – uhh… go then." Neria made her way to the wooden frame, placing her hand on the rough surface. She turned again, calling back, "It was nice talking with you, Leliana."

She disappeared through the door a second later.

Leliana stared after the door for a few moments, listening to the sound of her name on the Mage's lips. It had been _forever_ since someone she hardly knew addressed her in such a laid back fashion, and to be honest, she didn't know quite what to think of it.

Frowning, she looked back down at the reports she needed to sign off, and letters she needed to read and respond to. She sighed, reaching over to the mug Neria had brought for her as she sliced open the envelope. Taking out the letter, the Spymaster began to read;

' _Dear Sister Nightingale,_

_All main roads between Haven and Denerim are clear for now, however many scouts have reported that-'_

Before Leliana could read any further, she spat the brown liquid she had tried to swallow out and across her desk, dampening many pieces of parchment in the attempt to rid herself of the _horrid_ taste that had invaded her mouth. Quickly, she wiped away the drops that had landed on the letter with a dry cloth, placing the mug back onto the desk.

Once she had finished, she looked down and grimaced as her gaze settled on the mug

' _Her tea is absolutely_ _ **awful…**_ _'_


	3. Chaper 3

As the young Mage looked distastefully down to the papers in front of her, she tightened her cloak around her shoulders. She gave a shiver and a sniffle, and finally sat back in her chair with a huff.

' _This is ridiculous,'_ Neria thought to herself, tearing her eyes away from her paperwork. She looked anywhere but down at her desk, and her eyes landed on the fire-pit across the room. The flames rose high in the fireplace, causing light to spread across the room. The young woman glared at the orange embers, and shivered again.

The purpose of a fire was to keep those near it warm, so they didn't need the weight of cloaks or covers to keep them from shivering.

' _So_ _ **why**_ _am I still so fucking freezing?'_ she thought in annoyance.

In the room with her were two others; Josephine Montilyet, and Cassandra Pentaghast. Both were staring down at their individual papers, working away as the flames from the fire gave them light.

Something Neria had noted about the Antivan Ambassador was that she would work away non-stop if there was a quill in her hand. Her fingers would work effortlessly, guiding the quill across each page to portray whatever Josephine wanted to write. It was a wonder to watch her work, and Neria always gave a stiff chuckle at the look of concentration on the woman's tanned face.

Seeker Pentaghast, however, was the complete opposite.

Neria had always pegged the older woman for being more useful with a sword in her hand than writing equipment, and the Seeker had quickly proven her right. A frown was always struck across Cassandra's face whenever she put pen to parchment, and every once in a while she would glare down at the paper, her own hand, or the quill she was trying to with.

Rarely would she ever take her annoyance out on the parchment, but now definitely seemed like one of those times.

"Urgh!" Cassandra spat, carelessly slapping her quill onto the table. Josephine looked up from her desk slightly, a tiny, unseen smirk gracing her lips.

"Having trouble, Seeker?" Neria asked, her voice thick with an innocent – _teasing_ – tone. "Is the quill too much for you?"

Cassandra turned her glare over to the Mage. "Do not poke fun," she spat. "Not everyone has the aptitude for desk duties like you, or our Lady Ambassador."

Neria glanced over to Josephine, who met her gaze with a knowing look. They both smirked, and the Antivan looked back down to her papers, dipping her quill into the ink pot before she continued to write.

Neria smiled, thinking back to when she had first met with the Ambassador. She had known during their very first conversation that she and Josephine would get along swimmingly, and she was certain the Ambassador knew the same. She had a particular grace about her, a sharpness and quick thinking that Neria had to admire her for.

And most of all, she was close friends with their Orlesian Spymaster.

At the thought of the red-head, Neria adopted a secret smile, and all thoughts of Josephine sped from her mind.

It had been a few days since their little early morning chat, and Neria had been able to think little of anything else. She remembered the Spymaster's teasing smile, the way her eyes lightened when she revealed her past with Cullen and her quick crush on the ex-Templar.

' _And that voice…'_

The young Mage had often heard of the fascination of the Orlesian accent, how it could make a man quiver in the bedchambers, turn his insides to mush and make his member throb with want. All a woman had to do was utter a few little sweet nothings…

Neria was _certain_ Leliana had that ability, and she took no shame in admitting the thought excited her.

"Who are you thinking about?" came a teasing voice.

Neria jumped out of her day dream, and looked around the room. Josephine, her quill now settled next to her neat stack of papers, was leaning forward on the desk with a sly smile on her face.

It took Neria a few moments to realise she wore a dreamy grin. She rid of it quickly, gave a strangled cough and focused her attention back into the neglected reports and letters in front of her. "No one," she replied, looking down at the parchment.

A few moments passed, and Neria sighed when she didn't hear the scratchings of quill pressing down to paper. Looking up, she saw Josephine giving her an expectant look, her smile growing instead of lessening. Cassandra, doing her best to mind her own business, kept her eyes to her own report, but left the quill on the desk.

"Don't look at me like that," Neria commanded the Ambassador. "Stop! I don't know what you're talking about."

Giving her trademark scoff, Cassandra lifted her eyes from her report and glanced across to the Mage. _"Please_ ," she scorned. "Every soldier and their _hound_ can see that you follow Leliana like a lost mutt."

The sudden accusation made Neria blush, and she was slightly taken aback. Where is was true that she, in fact, _had_ followed the Spymaster around Haven like a foal would its mother mare, she had thought she'd been at least somewhat subtle about it.

Seeing the triumphant gleam in the Seeker's eye as she stared at the Mage's reddening cheeks, Neria refused to let the woman win their little battle.

"Why the sound of disgust, Seeker?" she replied with a flirty smile. "Jealous that I prefer the use of my _left_ hand over my _right_?"

Confused, Cassandra looked back over to Neria, not understanding the double meaning. Neria flashed her a sultry smile, and sent her a wink. The Seeker's eyes widened in realisation, and Neria gave herself a small clap on the back.

Cassandra could be such a _prude_ at times it was adorable.

"Absolutely **not** ," she replied. "I do not need to know what you do in your privacy."

"You're no fun," Neria deadpanned. Josephine giggled at the two, and moved to massage her aching wrist. Shaking her head, the Mage continued. "What's her story, anyway?" she asked the two. "Leliana, I mean. I can see she has this whole 'Ice Queen' thing going for her, I just don't understand why."

Cassandra and Josephine gave each other a look that Neria could only describe as _cautious_. They seemed to have a silent conversation, like they had some kind of secret language they could use through mere expressions alone.

Sighing, Cassandra turned in her seat towards the Mage. "Leliana… hasn't had an easy life," she explained slowly. "She has had many people leave her, betray her, and even use her for their own gain.

"What do you know of Leliana and her involvement with the Hero of Fereldan?" Cassandra asked as she leaned forward onto the desk.

Neria shrugged, thinking back to what her King had told her about his journey with Elissa Cousland. "Same as everyone else in Thedas," she answered. "Elissa Cousland travelled north from Ostigar with the King and one other. They travelled to Lothering, there she met the Qunari and the Chantry Sister, after which they ventured forth to Redcliff for the Arl's aid, only to find-"

"What you speak of now is general knowledge," the Seeker cut her off with a wave of her hand. "That is the story Varric would tell in a tavern, only with more drunks and more lies. I'm asking specifically for _Leliana's_ part in the tale."

Neria frowned as she watched the Seeker's stern gaze, and tried to ignore the sad look Josephine was giving her.

Alistair had only ever talked of Leliana once to her. It was deep into the night after a few too many wines that he begun reminiscing about the 'old nights in camp'. How tired everyone used to be after the day's walking, riding or fighting.

* * *

_Staring into the fire in his personal study, the King took a small sip from his chalice, and gently placed it back onto the wooden, sturdy desk he sat at. Neria herself, nineteen years old with a neglected book in her lap, was sat not too far away from him. A long forgotten sheet was pooled near her feet on the floor as she watched Alistair. "What was your favourite night?" she asked, referring to his travels during the Blight._

_Alistair answered immediately, a small smile gracing his lips as he watched the embers burn away the logs of wood sat in the fireplace. "The time Leliana performed for us, after finding some old lute in the Deep Roads," he said, his voice deep, slurred with the intoxication of alcohol, but his eyes light and burning with memory. "Refused to leave the thing behind. Nigh' we got back, her, me, 'lissa and Wynne, we were all gathered 'round the fire, and she just started singin', her fingers during their thing with the strings. I don' even remember what the song was about, but it went like this-"_

_The King put his empty hand out, and began humming and bouncing his hand in time with the tune the Bard had once played. "Everythin' just seemed to stop mattering then. Like there was no Blight, or danger. And everyone was listening, too. Even that_ _**bitch** _ _…" Alistair gave a look of disgust then, and took another gulp of his wine. "I jus' remember looking around the camp, seeing Oghren and Zev sleepin', and Wynne being all 'grand-motherly'." His smile lessened for a short while, before taking another swig of his beverage. "lissa and Leliana smilin' and… doing_ _**coupley** _ _things..."_

" _You loved her?" Neria guessed, feeling a surge of sympathy fill her for the man in front of her._

_Sighing, the King rested his head back on the chair, nodding his head ever so slightly as the sweet nectar of his wine began to make him sleepy. "I just miss my sister, now, as you yourself do, I'm sure."_

* * *

The memory faded shortly after, and then she was back in the room with Cassandra and Josephine, who were both looking over at her expectantly. She had forgotten about her midnight talks with the King, and for a split second, she felt a stab of homesickness hit her chest.

Neria missed Denerim, and the friends she had made there. She missed the warmth of the sun, which was completely scarce as far south as Haven. She even missed the King, no matter how annoyingly frustrating he could be at times.

But even through his playful nature, that night the King had finally given her a piece of useful information outside of the Court.

'" _Coupley-things"?'_ Neria thought, not believing what she had heard. "Lovers?" Neria asked, her voice thick with shock. "Leliana and Elissa were _lovers_?"

Josephine lowered her saddened eyes and looked back down to her papers, as Cassandra nodded her head. "I first met Leliana in Justinia's Chantry, in Valance, when she was just Dorethea," she said, looking over to the fire. "She was there seeking guidance over the Hero's death, and the first time I saw her, she was sobbing into Dorethea's robes. The woman I met so long ago was _nothing_ like she is now. The best I can describe her as was a young, lost and broken woman.

"We met again years later, when Justinia had been named Divine. I had been offered Right Hand, and I was surprised when told Leliana was to become Left Hand," Casandra announced. "It was only when I saw her hard at work did I understand _why_ she was names Justinia's Left; the years after the Blight had not been kind to her. She was beyond cold, and willing to do anything to meet her goal, even if it meant a ruthless method.

"We formed somewhat of a business relationship since becoming Justinia's Right and Left, but even then she was still unfriendly. _Dethatched."_ The Seeker continued, her face becoming hard. "After a year of working together, I made the mistake of trying to discuss the Hero of Fereldan with her. Before her name touched my lips, my sword was thrown across the room, my back was against the hard wall, and a knife was pressed firmly against my throat. Leliana was in front of me, spitting her fire as she made me swear to _never_ even breathe her lover's name again." Cassandra, finished with her story, continued to stare into the fire, leaving those in the room with their thoughts.

Neria, at best, was shocked. She had known that Sister Leliana was cold, and even threatening here and there, but in all the times they had talked, _never_ had she been ruthless or cold hearted towards the mage. She had always treated her with courtesy, and smiled whenever Neria brought in a hot beverage on a cold morning, although Neria secretly wondered if the Spymaster actually _enjoyed_ the teas she was given.

To hear some of the deeds that the Orlesian beauty had committed, even to one of the people closest to her, filled the Mage with a sense of dread.

And strangely, disappointment.

It was no secret to anyone in Haven that Neria had an infatuation with the Spymaster. Some had even called her mad for it. It was foolish, but still Neria silently hoped for a … _closer_ relationship between her and the red head. To hear that she was ten years in mourning for her lover long gone diminished her hopes to mere ashes.

At that thought, Neria's eyes widened in horror and she sat up in her chair. ' _I told her about Elissa and I …'_

Guilt coursed through her then as she realised what she had said. She thought of Leliana, how her eyes would be cast downward at the thought of her once lover, the cold expression being replaced with that of sorrow. The thought that _she_ had caused that saddened glance tore at Neria's chest.

Suddenly, the Mage rose from her chair, a sudden need to find Leliana taking over her legs. She made her way across the room to the door, only the sound of Cassandra's cry stopping her from going through. Neria turned on her heel to look back at the Seeker, and found the older woman giving her an apologetic look.

"If romantic relations is what you want, you had best go pursue someone else."

At that moment, any form of relationship with the Spymaster had left her mind. ' _All I want right now,' s_ he thought as she strode through the wooden door. ' _Is to find Leliana, throw myself at the ground and apologise.'_

* * *

Having good intentions was one thing, being able to carry out those intentions was quite another.

When she left hers and Josephine's Office, the first place Neria sped to was Leliana private quarters, which she shared with the Ambassador. After knocking and waiting outside the room for a good few minutes, the Mage walked away from the door, already wondering where else the Spymaster could be. Scratching her left ear, she rushed to the main doors of the Chantry.

Luckily, she didn't have to go much farther to find the Orlesian woman.

Just behind her work tent, sat on the edge of the wall, was Leliana, her hands spread on the wall to keep her balance as her legs dangled over the edge. She looked over the village quietly, listening to the birds in their cages as they ruffled their feathers or squawked at each other.

Neria felt nervous as her boots crunched down into the snow. What would she even say? Just spitting an apology would be outright rude in many cases, and the Mage didn't want to disrupt the serene atmosphere that the Spymaster seemed to be in. And truthfully, she wondered what Leliana would do if she even _tried_ to apologise. Would the Spymaster tackle to into submission as she did Cassandra? Leave her defenceless until she finally stuttered out some foolish and rushed 'Sorry'? Probably not, but the knowledge that she had done so once to someone close to her didn't exactly reassure the Mage.

Gritting her teeth and taking a deep breath, Neria walked toward the woman, the snow crunching loudly as she walked over it.

"Good Evening," Neria called as she came closer.

Leliana looked over to the approaching woman, and gave her a small smile. " _Cold_ Evening, I think you'll find," the Sister replied. "It will start snowing again soon. Best not to stay out here for too long."

As much as Neria would have loved to run back inside when she heard the word 'snow', she instead stuffed her hands into her fur-lined pockets bitterly and stood next to the Spymaster, looking over the village and listening to the dim sound of voice and tune that erupted from the tavern. "I try not to let the weather bother me too much," she said. "It's warmer in Denerim, yes, but I should have known to pack more suitable clothing."

Leliana gave a short chuckle and glanced up. "Alistair said the same thing when we came this far south during the Blight."

Even though she hid it well, Neria could tell that Leliana was fighting against the cold, too. It was in the small chatter of her teeth, and the way her voice wavered when she spoke. After listening to the woman speak for hours and minutes at a time, Neria had found that she was able to spot these little details much easier.

Smiling tightly, she sat down next to the older woman and brought her gloved hands out from her pockets. She slid off her thick gloves, setting them down in her lap. She could feel Leliana's eyes on her, and she forced down a blush.

Bringing her hands to her mouth, she uttered under her breath a single incantation. Slowly, both her hands became toasty warm, and she grinned as she brought her palms away from her mouth. Cupped in her hands was a single, tiny flame. It's orange-yellow colour flickered in the faint wind, threatening to blow out. However, as Neria concentrated on the flame, it slowly grew bigger and warmer. Soon enough, she had lowered her hands down near her knee, offering to share the warmth with Leliana.

The Spymaster, who looked uneasy and reluctant at first, slowly un-gloved her own hands, one finger at a time. "I must say, I have never seen a spell like that casted with such each," she said, raising her hands so they were above the flames. The warmth hit her palms deliciously, and Leliana gave a small sigh at the rare luxury.

For a time, Neria stared down at the fire, then slowly up to the Spymaster's hands. It was the first time she had seen them un-clothed, and she soon found herself watching them - _studying_ them. She took in their pale appearance, the little creases on the backs of them, even the small nails at the end of each finger. They looked undeniably _soft_ … Before the urge to touch them came to her, Neria shook her head quickly and rid herself of the thought.

She glanced back up to the older woman, and saw an expectant gaze watching her. It was only a few moments later that Neria realised Leliana was waiting for an answer. Or more so, an explanation.

"Oh, yes!" the Mage coughed. "Uh, during the night when people slept, fires were forbidden in the Circle. As you can imagine it got very cold in the sleeping quarters, and it got to the point where I couldn't put up with being freezing anymore. So, I just used to make my own. Small, of course. Any Templar that may have caught be would have ran me through there in my bed."

The two women settled into a comfortable silence then, Neria warming the both of them up whilst Leliana took a moment to look over the village once more. All the while, the Mage was rehearsing what to say over and over in her mind.

Eventually, she took a deep breath, and watched as white spurts of air oozed from her own lips. "I'm sorry for what I said the other night," she forced out quickly. Leliana glanced over to her, a look of confusion on her pale face. "About me and Elissa," she clarified.

Quickly, Leliana's confused expression turned to a strange mixture of caution, anger, and sorrow. She stopped rubbed her hands over the burning fire and watched Neria closely. "I had no idea that the two of you were ever involved. Truly, I apologise," the Mage ended slowly.

Once more, there was a silence, but this one was thickened with a sense of dread, and just plain awkwardness of Neria's part. Leliana, who had removed her hands from above Neria's little fire, had fallen into a stony silence. The Mage diminished the flame, and tucked her hands back into her pockets.

Worry filled Neria when Leliana continued to not reply. She wondered what the Spymaster was thinking, and what she would do when she finally spoke again. Glancing over, Neria peered over at the red head and was overwhelmed with guilt at what she saw. Leliana's face, no longer angry, nor cautious, but completely saddened. Her eyes were turned down much in the way Neria had imagined they would, and her lips now ran in a straight line. It was obvious from the woman's reacted that she rarely spoke or even heard about her lover from anyone.

Had Neria not been there, she was convinced that Leliana would have let herself weep for a few moments before steeling herself in her 'Ice Queen' mask.

After a few minutes, Leliana broke the tense silence. "And how do _you,_ of all people, know about my personal affairs?" she asked sharply, meeting the younger woman's gaze.

Neria felt herself flush with red. In truth, Cassandra had given her Leliana's difficult past without question, if not pushed her in the right direction of guessing it. But selling the Seeker out was the last thing the Mage wanted to do.

"I recalled a night in Denerim, only an hour ago," Neria spoke quietly. "The King and I were sat in his private studies, talking over a bottle of wine. He was telling me stories about the Bl-"

"And these stories you just _happened_ to remember 'only an hour ago'? Out of sheer coincidence?" the Spymaster practically hissed. "Do you think me a fool? You expect me to believe that you _just_ recalled a detail like that?"

Neria stared at the Spymaster, fear running through her at the fire in the woman's eyes.

 _This_ was the woman who had disarmed Cassandra and thrown her against the wall faster than she could blink.

 _This_ was the woman who everyone had seen _except_ for Neria.

And _this_ was the woman the Mage had been terrified of meeting.

Taking a breath, Neria quickly decided on telling the truth. "Cassandra may have let it slip her tongue," she admitted. At the sudden added flare of anger, the young woman quickly added, "It's my fault! I asked her. She did it for my own good. If anyone is to blame, it's me."

"Even so," Leliana nearly spat. "She shouldn't have uttered a word of it. That was _my_ business, _not_ hers."

"I know," Neria nodded in agreement. "She just thought that it would be easier on me if I knew, and on you." Again, there was another silence that fell between them, and she didn't know if Leliana was waiting for an explanation, or if she already knew what the Mage had meant. Taking yet another breath, Neria continued, another blush rushing to her cheeks. "I- uh. I know I haven't been very… _subtle_ with my glances, or the stuttering." To that, Leliana said nothing, and Neria was glad to see some of the anger disappear from her face. "And I apologise for that, as well. I have been very unprofessional as of late, and I doubt _anybody_ would appreciate being watched and gawked at all the time."

Leliana let out a small sigh, and Neria was surprised at the shoulder nudge she got from the Spymaster. She looked up to meet Leliana's gaze again, and was surprised even further at the understanding _tenderness_ she saw there, and even a hint of a smile. It was hardly noticeable, but it was definitely there. "I don't want you to apologise for what you feel," she started. "The Maker gave us the ability to love and cherish. No one should be denied that. I do, however, agree that not everyone enjoys being stared at," she hinted.

Neria nodded and gave a small grin of her own, slipping her hands back into her gloves. "I'll try to keep my eyes on my reports from now on," she joked as she rose from the wall.

As she clambered to her feet, she gave a small yelp at the snowflake that landed on her ear. She swiped at the cold with one hand as she yanked up her hood with the other. She heard Leliana give a small laugh – a _giggle_ – and Neria decided that it was time to return back to the Chantry. "I'm going to finish some reports before the whole building gets snowed in," she said as she pressed the material of her hood to her cheek.

Leliana gave her a nod and a final smile before the Mage turned on heel and headed back towards the Chantry.

With a new spring in her step, Neria felt a strange weight lifted off of her shoulders as she thought about her and the Spymaster's conversation.

It felt nice to be open and just talk with someone as they had, even if she now knew for definite that her feeling were completely unrequited.

But on the bright side, Neria was walking away with a valuable piece of information; ' _I suppose it's true what they say about red heads and their tempers.'_

_**A.N: And here's an update. At last :)** _

_**My apologies if this chapter seemed a bit rushed or off, but I wanted to get this out whilst I had some time on my hands.** _

_**Anyone who has followed any of my previous stories will know that I am a college student, and this year is a lot busier than last. Because of the onslaught of assignments that I have been given, I doubt I'll be able to post anything until after Christmas. My sincerest apologies.** _

_**But rest assured, I will be finishing this story. I appreciate all the feedback I have been getting so far and I also apologise for any spelling errors in this chapter, it was kind of rushed out :P** _

_**Have a great one,** _

_**~RJay** _


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